


The Implication

by goodpersonwithafetishforevilpeople



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Begging, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Brutal Murder, Corpse Desecration, Crime Scenes, Cruelty, Crying, Dacryphilia, Dark, Death Threats, Dirty Talk, F/M, Forced, Gallows Humor, Graphic Description of Corpses, Heavy Angst, Horror, Insufficient Lube, Nipple Licking, Pain, Painful Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rough Sex, Sadism, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 01:02:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20349781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodpersonwithafetishforevilpeople/pseuds/goodpersonwithafetishforevilpeople
Summary: I continued walking down the trail with his hand on my shoulder the entire time, my discomfort growing with every step and with every second that pulled the setting sun ever closer to the horizon. I cleared my throat. "So. What's your name?" I asked as I tried to calm my nerves."Dennis," he answered from behind me. "You're gorgeous, you know that?" he said as he ran his free hand through my hair before tucking some of it behind my ear.I swallowed nervously. "I, um, I have a boyfriend," I said shakily.





	The Implication

**Author's Note:**

> In case the title and the tags aren't sufficient warning, I will disclaim right now that this story definitely veers into the genre of crime horror. Before anyone comments under the pseudonym "anti-rape" or some shit, allow me to state that NOT EVERYTHING THAT IS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT IS PORN. If, as a reader, you would like to pretend that this is a consensual roleplay, then you are of course free to do so, but that is not how this story is written, and it would actually be quite difficult to interpret this story that way. This story is not meant to be enjoyable in the way that erotica is; it is meant to be suspenseful, uncomfortable, and realistic (not unlike another story I posted with a rather long yet necessary warning, but this one is significantly darker). As in my Dennigail series, I am in no way fetishizing nor romanticizing any crime depicted, which is obvious if you read this entire story or that entire series. As a survivor of rape, I did not have to do a lot of imagining to write the rape scene in this story - in fact, some lines are taken verbatim from my real life, and as I explained in another author's note (on the final story in the Dennigail series), reclaiming traumatic experiences through art can be extremely cathartic for many of us. However, if you are too young, too close to a recent experience, or simply know that a story this detailed may trigger you, then I trust that you will be wise enough to exercise discretion and protect yourself from a literary experience that may not yet benefit you and which could potentially even harm you. Do not bother commenting if you disregard this warning, for I will not even address your inevitably deleted comment in a note, as this warning and explanation is extremely thorough. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Read at your own risk, bearing in mind that this is meant to be disturbing and horrific. Why put something like this out into the world? Because sometimes people want to be disturbed by art and entertainment (see Stephen King, David Lynch, and the numerous other artists who make a living from fear whom I admire for their artistic bravery. For instance, when I was first shown Lynch's "Blue Velvet" by a friend, I was shocked and requested that my friend turn it off. A few days later, I decided to watch it on my own, this time with an idea of what it was. My opinion on the film was inconsistent for several months, but I developed an admiration for Lynch and Rossellini after watching them handle some very scathing criticism for the disturbing film in numerous interviews). Also, I'm a huge fan of Sunny's dark humour, and Dennis is tied with Charlie for my favourite character since I generally find their personalities the cutest (Dennis when he gets frustrated and Charlie almost always unless he's being a total dick, which they all are sometimes), but I honestly think that RCH wrote Dennis as a rapist, even though it's only ever implied; in fact, although I somewhat expected the Dennigail series to receive a mixed reception, as someone who has seen literally every episode of Sunny at least twice, I would confidently say that I portrayed the Dennis of my little series as a more sympathetic character than he is in the show, despite his horrendous mistakes in the first and ninth installments. There are just too many canonical references to him being a possible rapist for it to really be ambiguous, even though I prefer to think that he isn't, as Charlie might say, "a philanthropist" (full-on rapist). He is in this story, though 😢

"Alright, Cam and I are gonna go into town to fill up on gas. You gonna be alright here on your own?" my boyfriend asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I assured with a smile. "Maybe I'll get to know some of the other people here on the dock."

"Alright. Hopefully we won't be gone long, but cell signal is shitty, and I don't want you worrying if we get held up."

"I'll be fine, babe. Now go," I said as I playfully pushed both men towards Cameron's pickup truck.

They snickered and playfully shoved back before finally making their way to it and climbing in.

I grinned fondly as I started along the marshy trail towards the dock, the roar of Cam's truck a fading rumble as I descended the gradual slope of the hill. I had to literally watch my footing, my eyes fixed upon the narrow, beaten walking path to avoid slipping. I could hear the commotion of those already gathered on the dock amidst the sounds of the gulls and the water in the wind. I was startled by a sudden hand on my shoulder. I hadn't even heard anyone approaching. My heart jumped as I turned around.

"Sorry, sweetheart," a man whom I didn't recognize greeted with a smirk. "Didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to know if you were lost or something."

"Um... No. I'm just on my way to my boat, thank you," I said as I turned to look at his hand clamped firmly on my shoulder. I wished he would remove it, but I decided to just wait the situation out for now. I felt a little too timid to risk any sort of confrontation with this bold stranger.

"Well, how about I walk you to it?" he suggested in a soft tone as he tightened his grip very slightly. His voice was gentle, but there was something about it that bothered me. Or maybe it was just something about him.

I wanted to refuse, but instead I just nodded.

"Good girl," he murmured. "Lead the way, sweetheart."

I continued walking down the trail with his hand on my shoulder the entire time, my discomfort growing with every step and with every second that pulled the setting sun ever closer to the horizon. I cleared my throat. "So. What's your name?" I asked as I tried to calm my nerves.

"Dennis," he answered from behind me. "You're gorgeous, you know that?" he said as he ran his free hand through my hair before tucking some of it behind my ear.

I swallowed nervously. "I, um, I have a boyfriend," I said shakily.

"Mmhm." It sounded like he didn't care.

"Well," I announced with forced cheer as I turned to face him again, "this is my boat. Um, thanks for escorting me, Dennis."

"Aren't you gonna invite me in?" he asked with an admittedly cute smile.

I laughed nervously. "That, uh, that's a good one."

"I'm not kidding," he said, although he was still smiling. "It would be the gracious thing to do. You don't want to come off as ungrateful, now, do you?"

"I already thanked you," I said quietly.

His smile widened into a grin that definitely was no longer cute. He leaned in to whisper into my ear as he caressed the small of my back, "Are you nervous?"

I closed my eyes and nodded, just hoping, hoping that he'd leave.

He sighed quietly in what sounded unmistakably like appreciative bliss. He took a small step closer to me so that his body was flush with mine. "I like that," he murmured.

I gasped when he pressed his erection against my crotch and began to grind gently against me as he tightened his hand against my back. "Please stop," I whispered as I buried my face into his shoulder in shame. I could feel pressure behind my eyes, but I valiantly held back my impending tears.

"I bet you're wet right now," he said as he grinned against my ear. "You're gonna resist 'cause you've got a boyfriend and you're a good little girl, aren't you, but you're not. Not really. Deep down you're just a whore aching to be fucked rough and hard by some stranger who's gonna treat you like your cucky little boyfriend would never dare."

"No," I pled quietly. "No, please leave. He could be back any minute with our friend, and they'll kick your ass."

"Mm. Well, we better hurry, then." The guy - Dennis - steered me towards the nearest boat, which he correctly guessed was mine.

We climbed onto the boat, then descended into the cabin. Dennis shut the cabin door as we made our way down the wood steps. He pulled the chain string that dangled above the bed to turn on the single bulb in the ceiling, splashing low yellow light all over the room, the shadows of the furniture looming on the opposite walls. I whimpered as tears spilt from my eyes when he pushed me down onto the bed, my back bouncing softly upon the mattress as he crawled over me.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I whispered. "I... I have never hurt you."

"You'll be thanking me in a moment," he muttered cockily as he carefully undid each button on my shirt, exposing my lacy, pale pink bra. Its metallic rose sheen glinted and almost sparkled in the amber light. He gently slid my blouse down my arms, then tossed it carelessly onto the floor.

I instinctively shrunk further from his looming figure, into the navy blue quilt atop the king-sized bed that I had purchased just last summer. He wasn't a big or particularly muscular guy, but as a man of average build, it was extremely unlikely that I, a slightly smaller than average woman, would stand a chance against him. I just prayed silently that my boyfriend and our much more rugged, intimidating friend would return soon and think to check for me in the cabin. It didn't matter that I wasn't religious; as they say, there are no atheists in foxholes. I decided that compliance would be the safest course of action for now. I hated how powerless I felt, but I counted myself lucky that he wasn't being physically rough. Although, hadn't he said something about fucking me "rough and hard"? I felt my palpitating heart stutter in my chest.

Dennis chuckled as he cupped my breasts. "You look like a scared little rabbit or something... You know the hunter's caught you, and you're trying to hide yourself in the shadows..." He gently squeezed my breasts through my bra. "But you know how it goes when you're prey. When you're cute..." He reached behind me to unhook my bra. "And vulnerable..." He slid the straps of my bra down my trembling arms and flung the garment onto the floor. "And just so fucking... delicious." He latched his mouth onto my nipple and sucked hard.

I moaned on instinct at the sensation. I could feel myself becoming wet against my will. I hated myself so much right now. I had never been in a situation like this before... What if he wasn't actually assaulting me? What if this really was something I secretly wanted deep down? What if I really was a filthy, unfaithful whore? I began to cry openly.

Dennis moaned. He kissed my breast as he withdrew it from his mouth and murmured into my skin, "Yes, baby. You have no idea how fucking hot you're making me right now. Keep crying, little whore. Keep crying for me."

"No!" I sobbed. "Stop, please just - JUST STOP!"

"You're not fighting back," he observed with a smirk as he began to undo my high-waisted shorts. "I'd suggest that you just forget about your boyfriend for now and enjoy this, but... You familiar with the saying that fear is the greatest aphrodisiac?"

"I'm familiar," I whispered through heaving sniffles. "And "sex without pain is like food without taste." I wouldn't call de Sade's sexual philosophies "sayings," though..."

"Ah, so you're a fan, as well?" Dennis asked as he slowly pulled my shorts down my legs.

"I did a history project on him in high school," I said, mildly grateful for the distraction of the conversation that was helping to halt my flow of tears.

"Really?" Dennis asked as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties.

"Yeah. Twelfth grade. We got to choose any historical figure from the French Revolution."

"Wasn't de Sade imprisoned in the Bastille at that time?"

"He spent most of his life in prison. He was more instrumental in the Revolution than people think."

Dennis grinned as he tossed my shoes, socks, shorts and panties onto the floor. He met my eyes with a smug, almost victorious gleam in his.

"... What?" I asked apprehensively.

"You know so much about the guy from whose name the word "sadism" was derived... There's no way you haven't fantasized about something like this."

I swallowed nervously. "I - I'm just fascinated by etymology," I weakly deflected.

"Yeah, okay, you're a nerd, whatever. But you're also a horny little masochist."

I could feel my heart struggling to beat right out of my chest as Dennis crawled over me again, this time straddling my bare legs as he pushed me down and pinned both my wrists against the bed, his grasp firm on both of my outstretched arms. "Imagining is different... I'm in control of my imagination," I said quietly.

He grinned down at me. "What do you think I'm going to do to you?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious to know my answer. No, not just curious... Fascinated? No... Excited. The sick fuck.

I gulped before I could stop myself. "Well... I wish you'd just leave, but... I guess you already told me what you plan to do to me."

"Which is?" he prompted with that sick grin.

"You're gonna fuck me," I stated bluntly. Shit. What if he has something? It wasn't likely he'd do me the courtesy of using protection. Should I lie and say that I have something? It was worth a shot... "I, um... I should tell you, though, that I, uh... I have... Um, what would you do if I had something?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like if I had a venereal disease or something."

"Well, if it's something that goes away, I wouldn't really care."

"And if it's something permanent?"

"I'd probably just dispose of you."

"... WHAT?"

"Well, I mean, think about your situation right now: You're out in the middle of nowhere with some guy you barely know..." He shrugged, still grinning.

"I - I don't understand..." I didn't want to understand. I hoped I wasn't understanding correctly.

"Yes, you do. It would be extremely easy. I could probably do it with my bare hands. No one would ever find out."

I honestly thought I was about to have a heart attack, or at the very least a panic attack. My breaths began to come in short, erratic, painful bursts. "Have you done it before?" I whispered fearfully.

Dennis just chuckled as he sat down atop my thighs and released my wrists to undo his belt. He slid it through the loops with a soft metallic series of clanks before tossing it onto the floor atop my pile of clothes with a cushioned thump. He smirked at me as he undid his fly and freed his cock through the fly of his underwear. "Hmm... How should I fuck you?" he mused, mostly to himself. "I get the feeling you're bluffing about having an STI, but if you're not, then your mouth's probably the safest... Teeth, though... Those could be a problem. Your pussy's probably wet enough that I could just slide right in, but then there's the risk of pregnancy... You ever been fucked in the ass?"

I wasn't sure what to say. I decided to just go with the truth. "Yes," I admitted quietly.

He grinned wolfishly. "Perfect." He rapidly shed his shoes and clothing onto the floor with remarkable speed before easily flipping me over onto my stomach. He knelt between my thighs as he held me down with one hand planted firmly on my upper back.

I bit my lip against any sounds when he dipped two fingers into my pussy only to wet them. I winced when he slid his wet fingers between my ass cheeks and pressed them against my hole. He sunk one in, then quickly followed it with the other. The stretch burned unpleasantly from how little time he'd allowed me to adjust. He spread his fingers to stretch me faster, adding the uncomfortable burn of too much friction. I bit into the pillow when he withdrew his fingers, mentally bracing myself for what was to follow. I squeezed my eyes shut when he slid his cock into my pussy and thrust only twice before pulling out, using both of his hands to hold my ass cheeks apart as he set the head of his cock against my asshole.

"Beg for it," he ordered.

I shook my head, my teeth still clenched tightly around a mouthful of pillow.

"Beg for it or I'm gonna shove the whole thing in at once. It will tear you."

My jaw clicked softly as I used my tongue to push the pillow out of my mouth. I gathered enough saliva to moisten my mouth enough to speak despite my fear. "Please," I whispered shamefully.

"You can do better than that." He increased the pressure against my hole.

"Just tell me what to say," I pled through quiet sobs.

"Beg me to fuck your slutty ass like the whore you are."

I whimpered. "Fuck... Fuck my slutty ass like the whore I am," I said quietly.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Please," I whispered. Please just do it and go already. "Ow! Ow, ow, ow!" I cried as I stretched around the thick head of his cock. "Ow, FUCK! STOP!"

Dennis moaned as he continued to sink his thick cock into my ass until he was about halfway buried. "That's cute," he chuckled. "Telling me to stop like it's gonna make any difference. This is happening, sweetheart. I fucking own you tonight. Tell me, though: Why do you want me to stop?" he said as he began to move.

"Because it hurts!" I sobbed as I began to shake and cry.

"Thought you said you've taken it up the ass before?" His thrusts became quicker, deeper... more painful.

"You're too rough!" I sobbed.

"Too rough or too big?" he asked smugly.

"Both! I don't care! I just - I hate it!"

"Ohhh fuck... Yeah, tell me how much you hate it. Tell me how much it hurts," he panted as he fucked me like he was now genuinely trying to hurt me.

I bawled into the pillow. He was succeeding. I wondered if I was bleeding, tearing; I wouldn't have been surprised. It was possibly the most pain I'd ever experienced. I didn't bother speaking. Instead, I just began to silently count as I waited for him to come. I cried for over ten minutes straight, each agonizing second feeling more like an hour, and there was still no deceleration in his pace. "Please... Just do what you said," I whispered just loudly enough for him to hear over the sounds of our bodies colliding.

"I'm doing it," he panted.

"No... Kill me."

He faltered for a moment before promptly resuming his assault. "I'm almost done," he informed quietly.

I drowned my bloodcurdling scream into the pillow when he became impossibly rougher for only two minutes before stilling deep inside me. I could hear his loud, satisfied groan over my own excruciated wail. It grated my ears as I felt him fill me.

Dennis sighed as he became soft and pulled out with an unpleasantly wet sound. "Fuck... Goddamn," he breathed as he sat back onto his heels.

"You should go," I sobbed quietly. I wondered where the hell the guys were. Fuck, for all I knew, they'd already returned and were looking for me. "My boyfriend and our friend might be back by now..."

Dennis got up from the bed and began to put his clothes back on. "You better get dressed, as well, then."

I rolled over onto my back to meet his eyes with a chilling glare. "I don't care if they see me like this. I WANT them to. I want them to know what you did to me."

Dennis snickered. "Figured you for a whore," he muttered as he buttoned his shirt.

I watched him leave without another word. Before he had a second to close the cabin door, I heard three male voices shouting over each other on the deck: "Who the fuck are you?"

"Whoa, hey, fellas!"

"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY GIRLFRIEND?"

"Fellas, fellas, calm down!" Dennis urged frantically.

"MOVE!" my boyfriend ordered as he shoved his way past Dennis. "Cam, stay with this guy!"

"You got it!" Cameron called as my boyfriend hurried down the cabin steps.

I instinctively covered myself with the bedding when my boyfriend stopped dead in his tracks before me. "I wish I could tell you guys to kill him," I whispered, my vision blurry with fresh tears.

"Baby... What did he do to you?" my boyfriend asked as he rushed over to me, tears shining in his horrified eyes.

"He... He followed me. After you guys left. And then he... he made me -"

"Shhh, shhh, I don't - I don't need to know. It's okay now. I'm here," he said quietly as he sat down on the sullied bed and hugged me tightly.

I sobbed into his shirt, our arms wrapped around one another, anchoring each other beneath the chaos that could be heard above us. "I didn't want to -"

"I know," he soothed as he gently stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here to protect you."

"FUCK!" either Dennis or Cameron shouted at the same time that a loud crash resonated through the open cabin door. Whichever man it was who'd shouted growled before another loud collision with the floor sounded.

"You should go help Cameron," I said quietly. I wanted him to stay with me, but I was also worried about our friend.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "It's not like anything else can happen to me," I said dryly.

He kissed my forehead as he untangled himself from me and rose from the bed. "Stay down here for now, okay?"

"Be careful," I said as I looked at him with concern.

He squeezed my hand in reassurance before bounding up the steps.

As soon as he was out of my view, I heard a sickening SNAP! My heart dropped to my stomach, immediately fearing the worst. I rushed to the steps and climbed up onto the second one to see what was happening whilst remaining fairly hidden. I let out a massive sigh of relief when I saw whom had been injured.

Dennis was laying on the floor, his face contorted in pain, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. Is it possible to just sprain a neck without dying? Probably...

"No, wait, Cam," my boyfriend said as Cameron hovered his shoe on Dennis's neck, just barely touching the sole of it to his skin. "Let me."

Cameron complied, taking a few steps back to let his best friend take his place.

"Please..." Dennis rasped as he strained to look up at the man lightly stepping on his neck.

"You deserve so much worse than death. You deserve to have done to you what you did to her, but neither of us is up for that. We could methodically snap each and every bone and tendon in your body and then dump you on the shore. Alive or dead, it doesn't really matter, but unlike you, I wouldn't take any pleasure in that, so it'd ultimately be a waste of time."

"Are you done... monologuing?" Dennis rasped with a wince.

"Yep!" My boyfriend brought his foot down hard, causing dark red blood to spray out of Dennis's mouth. He crouched down to grip Dennis's jaw, his other hand squeezing his neck. He abruptly forced Dennis's chin against the deck. There was no way he was still alive in such a configuration.

I bounded, naked, up the steps. I stared in shock down at the former person who now lay limp on the deck of my boat, blood that was almost burgundy pouring from his open mouth into a puddle beneath his head. His eyes looked almost like marbles in his pallid face. I had never actually seen a corpse until now, but I'd heard so much about how peaceful their faces tended to look, finally at rest. He didn't look peaceful, though. He looked... dead. Just dead. Lifeless. Indifferent. Inhuman.

"Dude... You just committed murder," Cameron said quietly.

"Self-defense," my boyfriend said firmly.

"You didn't want to take him to court?"

My boyfriend scoffed. "And make her re-live the horror in front of a jury who may or may not rule in her favour? Who knows what kind of lawyer this fucker had. I remember reading about a criminal defense lawyer who made a chick show her thong in court to prove that she was "asking for it." I think she ended up killing herself."

"Yeah, I remember that news story," Cam muttered.

"So, if we wanted retribution, it was either this or risk her life," my boyfriend reasoned as he nodded towards me.

"The fuck are we supposed to do with the body?" Cameron asked. "Go out into the water and just toss it?"

"No, someone could find it. What if it's a family with kids or something? I don't want to risk traumatizing someone like that."

"I think it's standard to bring unclaimed corpses to the police," I said, although I wasn't entirely sure.

Both men turned to look at each other, clearly torn on the idea. They grimaced as they glanced down at our problem.

"We could burn it," Cam suggested. "Maybe wait 'til after midnight and make a sort of funeral pyre deep in the forest past the marsh where there wouldn't be a lot of people."

"Won't that stink?" I asked.

Cam shrugged. "Not as much as if we just let it rot."

"It is probably our best bet," my boyfriend agreed with a frown. "I'll go get a few towels to put under him. You guys mind cleaning the deck before the blood stains?"

"Sure," Cam and I agreed in unison as the three of us made our way down into the cabin for towels and cleaning supplies.

"Are you okay?" Cameron asked quietly as we scrubbed the deck next to the corpse which now lay on a pair of towels next to the macabre mess.

"You mean aside from the rape and murder? Oh, yeah, I'm dandy."

Cam snickered. "Well, at least your humour's intact. I'm serious, though. Do you think you'll, like, need therapy after this?"

"I think we all will," I answered honestly.

There was a faint dark spot that we couldn't eradicate, no matter how much we scrubbed. We decided to just let it be; it was as good as it was going to get.

"It's not quite midnight yet, but now that the sun's down, you guys wanna just get this over with?" my boyfriend asked.

"Well, let's gather the firewood," Cam said. "You should go get dressed," he turned to me to say.

"Okay," I agreed. "Um, do you guys mind waiting here?"

"Of course," they both hastily agreed in unison.

I went down to the cabin to put on my discarded clothes. The light in the ceiling had remained on. The shadows on the wall now looked menacing. The fact that there was only one exit now made the room feel like a trap. The mere existence of the bed felt like a cruel taunt, like it was intentionally mocking me in what it now represented. I walked glumly back up the steps. I had loved this boat. I had been so excited to buy it with my own money. It had become somewhat a part of my identity, a symbol of hard work and pride and adventure. I didn't want to ever set foot on it after tonight.

The three of us brought the body to a reasonably wooded area past the marsh under the cover of night. We dumped it carelessly at the base of a large tree to set off in search of firewood.

"Hey, do you think we should bring the fire extinguisher from the boat?" I asked as we carried the first set of logs and fallen branches back to our task.

"Oh, that's a good idea. Cam, do you mind?"

"I'm on it." Cam jogged back to the boat, leaving the two of us alone in the chilly darkness with the corpse.

I hugged my boyfriend and snuggled my face into his chest as he brought his arms around my back. "I think I'm gonna sell the boat," I said quietly.

He nodded. "That makes sense."

"It's kind of a shame, though."

"It is."

"I'm sorry this happened."

He scoffed. "Fuck, I'M sorry this happened. That was so goddamn stupid of us to leave you alone with no way to contact us."

"I should've fought him off somehow. I... I didn't even try," I admitted shamefully.

"Well, that's probably why you don't look too banged up. No scuffle, no scrapes. Hell, it might be why you're still alive."

"He... He did threaten to kill me."

He tightened his arms around me as though he could hold me safely and securely right here in his arms forever. "What did you say to dissuade him?"

"Well, he told me he'd "dispose" of me when I insinuated that I might have a venereal disease, but then he decided that I was probably bluffing about it."

"Thank God for that."

I shrugged.

"I know it's a really fucking thin silver lining, but I'm still grateful for it."

"I dunno..."

"What do you mean?"

"I asked him to kill me."

"... WHAT?"

"SHHH! Stay quiet. We don't want anyone coming out here."

"Baby, what do you mean?" he asked as he restlessly rubbed my back.

"While he was pounding my ass like it owed him money, I asked him to kill me."

"What did he say?"

"He told me he was almost done."

"Do you... Do you wish that he had?" he asked tearfully.

I was spared from answering when Cam's heavy footsteps came crunching and snapping back to us. "Alright!" he panted, brandishing the fire extinguisher. "Let's burn this fucking waste of human skin."

By the time we'd constructed the impromptu funeral pyre, the night was as dark as it was going to get, the sky a bruised canopy cloaking our crime. Cam withdrew his lighter from his pocket and walked all around the kindling to set it alight at several spots.

"I wish we had gasoline," I muttered as we patiently watched the fire grow. The wood splintered and crackled as sparks jumped and danced.

Once it finally began to blaze, the heat uncomfortable so close to us, the three of us hauled the body into the bright, scorching flames. The sound that erupted from the fire when it received its offer was startling. It didn't take long for the stench of burning flesh to surround us. The most fascinating part, though, was the sight. I was vaguely reminded of the scene near the end of "Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark." We gazed, morbidly enraptured, at the bones emerging into view.

"You know," Cam said, "I'm not really religious, but I can totally imagine him burning in Hell like this right now."

I nodded. "I can see what you're saying."

"It's kind of satisfying," my boyfriend added.

We watched Dennis - if that was even his real name - burn until his bones were charred. "This should be good enough," I decided aloud as I retrieved the fire extinguisher. I opened it on the fire, causing smoke to sting our eyes as it drifted up into the fateful night.

We stood around the burnt pile of wood and bones until Cam finally broke the silence by asking, "You guys wanna sleep in the truck or do you wanna drive into town to find a motel?" He seemed well aware that sleeping in the boat was out of the question.

"Motel," I said. "I'd like to shower."

"Alright," Cam agreed as he led us back to the truck.

I decided to just bring the fire extinguisher along. I'd just leave it in the truck once we arrived at the motel.

We drove in silence aside from the sound of the stereo. Cam had chosen to play the CD he'd compiled after his fairly recent breakup. It suited the late hour in its mellow melancholy.

"What song is this?" I asked as we entered the main area of town. "It sounds nice."

"It's called "Candles," by Elena Tonra's band, Daughter," Cam answered.

"It's beautiful," I remarked.

"If you listen to the lyrics, it's really sad."

I discovered that Cam was right. It didn't seem to describe heartbreak to me, though, even though I knew that that was probably what it was about. I felt tears gather in my eyes as the second verse spilled from the speakers: "Well, I have brittle bones, it seems/ I bite my tongue and I torch my dreams/ Have a little voice to speak with/ And a mind of thoughts and secrecy/ Things cannot be reversed/ We learn from the times that we are cursed/ That things cannot be reversed/ Learn from the ones we fear the worst/ And learn from the ones we hate the most/ How to blow out all the candles." I wondered if my memory of tonight would appropriate the meanings of other songs.

When we finally arrived at the motel, we booked a room with two double beds. By the time I finished my shower, Cam was already asleep in his bed. "Hey babe," I said quietly as I climbed into bed beside my boyfriend.

"Hey," he said quietly as he brought his arm around me. "You know... I'm so proud of you for getting through today."

I was silent for a few moments before saying quietly, "I... I know it's stupid, but..." I winced slightly as I bit my lip.

"But what?"

I sighed. "Well... I can't help but wonder if karma has a role in the universe, even in events like these..."

"What do you mean?"

"Well... He gloated with certainty that I'd fantasized about someone like him doing what he did. And the thing is... He wasn't wrong."

"Lots of people get off on the idea of cruelty, particularly of receiving it."

"I know. I just... I feel guilty now. I've read fiction depicting rape and gotten off to it. Maybe... Maybe I deserved this."

"You didn't," he said firmly. "Those stories were meant to be erotic, anyway, right? Like, she unrealistically ends up liking it or something?"

"Not always..."

"Well, regardless, your dark fantasies don't make you deserving of the heinous crime you endured today. Do you think other sadomasochists deserve to be raped?"

"Of course not."

"Then why are you any different?"

I shrugged. "I just am," I said quietly.

He hugged me tightly. "I know you feel this way now, but you will recover. Before you know it, you'll be back to jilling off to the "Saw" movies."

I laughed. "God, I can't believe I told you about that."

He laughed, as well. "I thought for so long that you always objected to watching horror movies with me because you were scared of them."

"Yeah." I shrugged. "That would be a reasonable assumption."

He yawned before leaning over to kiss me on the forehead. "I'm right here, okay? Just remember that. From now on, I'll always be right here, and if I'm not, you WILL have a way to reach me."

I smiled as I snuggled into the reassuring warmth of his body. I yawned, as well. I closed my eyes in a fruitless attempt to welcome sleep. Instead, all I saw in the darkness behind my eyelids were the cold, cruel eyes that had landed upon me as I'd walked, alone, to the dock. Even before his death, they had been lifeless. Indifferent. Inhuman. I had a depressing feeling that it would be some time before I began to recover.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not comfortable disclosing my identity on here, but if this story or elements of it resonated with you for personal reasons, please feel free to talk to me in the comments. Although I have never been assaulted by a complete stranger, have never witnessed nor partaken in a murder or open-air cremation, and am not anywhere near wealthy enough to own a boat, much of this story was drawn from personal experience. Although revisiting experiences like what is depicted in this story may be painful for some, others may take solace in knowing that others (like I) have experienced similar tragedy. I do not have training as a therapist, but have helped many fellow survivors, particularly those who, like I, have struggled with the irrational conviction that they were subconsciously inviting such abhorrent cruelty due to their unusual sexual preferences and unusual consensual sexual practices, as a peer counsellor. As my narrator indicates in this story, I totally get the appeal of rape fantasy and have even viewed stories written from the perspective of sadistic psychopaths as erotica despite the author's intention, but have felt guilty about this fetish when I had the misfortune of experiencing the real thing. Because I know for a fact that there are many more like me, I am certainly open to communicating respectfully on here, for I completely understand wanting to maybe talk to someone anonymous, rather than someone who knows you or waiting for an appointment with a professional when it comes to a matter like this. You are not alone 💖
> 
> Context/ references:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQJ9GUVxPl8&feature=share
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ox-jguIP-B4&feature=share
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJ3hc8pJelk&feature=share


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